


Perdition

by Ehann



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Equestrian, Family Feels, Gen, M/M, Michael is a good bro, Mostly Fluff, Slow Burn, feel good, gabriel is a good bro, texting like whoa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6282352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ehann/pseuds/Ehann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby has convinced John that Dean and Sam both need to finish school. But Dean is a year behind due to missing so many days last year. (Ok, almost all of them) Ugh. How is he supposed to cope with a school where everyone else looks like they stepped out of a fashion mag?</p><p>Well. Everyone except that Novak kid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which we meet our intrepid protagonists

Chapter 1- In which we meet our intrepid protagonists.

Dean arrived late to the first day of school. He scowled as he stomped through the corridors, trying to figure out where the biology classroom was. All around him, perfectly groomed kids greeted each other with shouts, hugs and the occasional catcall. Perfect, Dean thought, starting a new school in the middle of the year. What should have been his senior year was only his junior. He’d been pulled out of more schools than he could remember during the last six years. 

He paused, glancing at the door numbers, and –now some five minutes late- opened the door and stepped in. Dean swallowed as every head swiveled to stare at him. He hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder.

“You’re late, son,” the teacher said. “Do you have a note?”

“Um. Yeah. I’m, uh, new.” Dean dug in his jeans front pocket for the tardy slip from the front office, and handed it over.

“Well, Dean, I’m Mister Henrickson. Not quite standing room only this year, but close. Looks like there’s a seat back there next to Mister Novak.”

Dean followed Hendrickson’s gaze to the back row where a kid with messy black hair slumped over his desk. “Thanks.” He ignored the whispers that drifted his way.

Another one on the five year plan…takes one to know one…glad I don’t have to sit next to that dirtbag….better him than me…

Novak appeared to not have heard any of that. Dean settled in the desk next to him, struggling to get his long legs underneath. He glanced over at Novak. The black haired boy appeared Dean’s age—that is, a year older than everyone else. His hair was messy, and long enough to reach his collar. He had a surprising amount of shadow along his jaw. Looked like he hadn’t bothered to shave in days. And, there was a great purple green bruise along the edge of his jaw close to his ear. Which was a really weird place to have a bruise. Dean chewed on his lower lip. Yeah. He would know about that, wouldn’t he?

Novak ignored Dean completely, and reached down into his bag for a pen and notebook. Which, yeah, Dean should be doing too. He quickly became absorbed in the lecture on cell division. He knew the basics of it well enough. Two schools ago, he’d been enrolled for a whole six months in the same place. Time was, he used to get placed in honors classes, and was younger than everyone else. Whatever, he thought. Those days were long over. 

Idly, he glanced over at Novak, who was staring off into space. Novak wore a somewhat dirty red hoodie, and Dean could see the elbows were almost worn out. His jeans were dirty too, and there was a small pile of dried mud under his chair that had caked off his boots. And, if Dean was being honest the kid smelled, well, sweaty and dirty.  
Kinda strange, since everyone else looked like they just stepped out of freaking vogue. The girls all had long shiny hair, in ponytails and waves, and were all immaculately dressed. The other boys wore their hair mostly like Dean, short and spiky in front, and sported brand new looking clothes.

Why was Novak walking around looking like he got dragged through the dirt backwards? Dean wondered. Why did he smell like he had been doing hard labor before school? Jesus, Dean thought, I thought I had it bad, but this kid’s just pathetic. 

The rest of bio passed smoothly. When the bell rang, Dean leaned over. “Hey, um, I’m Dean.”  
Novak twisted round in his chair, giving Dean a long look. His eyes were surprisingly blue. Like, crazy blue. The moment stretched out to the point where Dean was starting to wonder if he’d actually imagined talking to him. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

Dean waited, but Novak continued packing his things away, before pushing back from the desk and getting up. “What’s, uh, what’s your name?” Dean blurted. So smooth Dean. 

Novak squinted up at him. “Why do you want to know?”

“Are you kidding me, man? I don’t know a single freaking person here, and the rest of these guys seem like douchebags.” He gestured at the rest of the class, filing out.

At that, Novak snorted. “Well, Dean, you’re not wrong.” That signaled the end of the conversation apparently, as Novak hoisted his messenger bag up to his shoulder, wincing just a bit, and then split.

“Wow,” Dean muttered. “So friendly I can hardly stand it.” He checked his schedule and sighed. English. Up three floors and on the other side of the school probably. 

The rest of the day wasn’t too bad, Dean decided. Novak was in two other classes with him: English and Spanish. In both classes when Dean arrived there was a gap of empty chairs on either side of Novak in the back row, so he sat next to him in both classes. 

At the end of Spanish, which was the last class of the day, Novak turned to Dean and said, “You must not want to make any friends here.”

“What, them? Damn straight I don’t want to be friends with them.” Dean waited a beat. “Look man, maybe I’m outta line, but um, are you okay?” He gestured to the bruise on Novak’s face that had darkened over the day.

Novak made a face halfway between a smile and wince. “Yeah that. I had some trouble with one of the girls at work this morning.” He stood up and stretched, grunting a little when he raised his arms over his head.

“What kind of work do you do?” Dean asked.

Novak’s blue eyes were almost glowing. “The kind that doesn’t feel like work,” he said, turned smartly on his heel, and left.

 

It was a relief to escape the school into the bright winter day. Dean threaded his way through the student parking lot, when he spotted his brother standing around gawking.

“Hey Dean.” Sammy was all gangly limbs and shaggy brown hair these days. He was leaning on the passenger side of Dean’s black Impala.

“Sammy, what’s up? How was your day?” Dean’s little brother practically lit up.

“Dude. I can’t even. They have, like, a state of the art computer science center. And all my teachers are like Phd’s. It’s crazy. This school is awesome.” Sam brushed his hair out of his eyes. “What about you, Dean? Make any new friends?” Sam teased. 

“Oh yeah, tons.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Get offa my car and get your ass inside. You know we gotta get dinner ready for Bobby.”  
“Whatever, jerk.”

Bobby Singer was a gruff older man, who was like an honorary uncle to Sam and Dean. Bobby was the one who had –thank GOD—managed to convince Dad to let them settle long enough to finish high school. BOTH of them, Bobby had thundered at John Winchester. That, Dean remembered, that had been a bad night. Dad and Bobby screaming at each other. Dad trying to drag Dean into the argument, saying, Dean doesn’t care about finishing high school, he can just get his GED later, after all, what’s he gonna need it for when—  
And Bobby had cut John off, his tone of voice positively artic. “You don’t want to finish that sentence, John. You just don’t. Those boys deserve a chance to at least finish twelfth grade before you finish making them into soldiers. And even soldiers need a good education, so they can make good decisions.” 

Dean had felt Bobby’s eyes land on him. It felt like Bobby was trying to tell him something without actually saying it. The older man turn back to Dean’s dad. “It’s happening, John. They’ll stay with me until BOTH of them graduate, and not a second before.” And John Winchester, former marine, for a moment had just---diminished. Like he shrank or something.

“Fine,” John had barked. And that was that.

 

Still, Dean mused on the drive back to Bobby’s (it didn’t feel right to call it home, yet) he kept expecting Dad to show up unannounced and pull them both from school. He’d done it before, lots of times, like he’d done that time in upstate New York.

It was nice, though, he thought, eating dinner sitting at a table, washing the dishes while Sammy dried and Bobby put away. And later, while the sound of the evening news carried softly through the house, the boys both did their homework at the dining room table.  
Finally, just like a normal family. And so what if Dean happened to wonder what gave Novak that big shiner on his jaw? He didn’t really want to know why the kid walked around filthy all day. He didn’t. 

 

If you asked him if he had a hard life, Castiel Novak would have scoffed. I have everything I need, he would have said. The rest doesn’t matter. He was supremely unconcerned about his schoolmates and lack of ‘friends’ because, simply put, he was not a ‘people person’. He had his brothers: Michael, at thirty was the head of the family and CEO of the family business, and Gabriel, recently graduated from North Dakota State, who did the day to day management.

Castiel had been training at his brother’s sides since he was little. It was clear from an early age that the Novak brothers all had the same natural affinity that their father had. And while their Dad had handed over the reins to Michael and retired, Castiel was still working his way up. You had to know every job from the ground up in this business. Nothing was too small.

In the last two years alone, Castiel had moved up from mucking stalls, to head groom, to chief exercise rider. This Spring he was supposed to start showing again. Last year’s fall circuit in Ocala had been grueling, and his show horse had come up lame after a show, putting Castiel out of commission until a) Beefcake’s suspensory healed up, or b) he trained up a new show horse. Worse, he had gotten behind on his schoolwork while in Florida, and now was a full year behind. 

Whatever. He could ignore the whispers about the ‘five year plan’ as well as his appearance. Besides, he thought, as he scooped grain into buckets, at least someone else was in the same boat. But Dean Winchester probably had no clue what it was like to have to work for a living. And too handsome, Castiel decided. Guys that gorgeous were almost always stuck up snobs. Castiel moved the buckets over to the gator. He backed the gator out of the feeding barn and drove down to the main pastures. He did the mares first, because God help him if the mares got pissed off waiting. The small bay mare he’d been working with this morning pinned her ears and gave him a bitchface. “Nice,” he commented, tossing her grain down into the pan on the ground. By rote, he continued down the row, feeding the small herd of mares. Pretty soon he’d have to think up a name for his little bay spitfire, Castiel decided. Really she was a large pony, standing 14 hands and change. Her mane and tail were thick and black, her winter coat also thick, but glossy in the sun. She had beautiful clean legs and nearly perfect conformation. The mare in question tossed her head and snorted at him. That face, he thought. I love it.

The wind picked up, and Castiel retied his navy scarf. He still had the geldings to do, and all the stalled horses. January was pretty damn cold in South Dakota, but Castiel believed in working through winter. In this case he simply had no choice. If he wanted to continue rising up the ranks both in showing and at the farm, which he did, then he had to keep working no matter what. If that meant sacrificing so called ‘normal’ adolescent things like dating and friends, well. Castiel had never much wanted to be normal.

After feeding all the horses, Castiel took the gator back up to the main barn and parked it. Here at the top of the hill the wind whipped sharper through his clothes, and he felt it acutely even through his heavy jacket. He ignored his discomfort in favor of wandering down the row of stalls, checking on the show horses and older horses who came in at night.  
Castiel stopped at the second stall, leaning over with his arms resting on the stall door. He closed his eyes for a moment, just listening to Beefcake munching on his hay. 

“Hello Beautiful,” he murmured. 

Beefcake jerked his head up, stalks of hay dangling from his lip. Beefcake was an off the track thoroughbred that Gabe had picked up at auction. Although Castiel was known more of a soft touch than his brothers, Gabe never could resist puppy eyes, even if they came from a horse.  
He’d been so skinny! Castiel remembered his horror when the chestnut gelding had unloaded off the trailer that first time. All his ribs visible, the bones of his withers and hips jutting out sharply where there should be sleek curves. His coat had been patchy and dull, with whole chunks of hair missing. 

So Beefcake had in theory been Gabe’s horse, but Castiel was the one that worked with him every day. Castiel fed him, wormed him, groomed him, and eventually, he was the one who got on for that first ride. He smiled fondly at the horse. Beefcake snorted and moved closer, his whiskers tickling Castiel’s hands. He scratched the large head, paying special attention to around his ears, grinning when the horse pushed into his fingers, tilting his head over to the side. “You are such a doof,” he said.

Beefcake said nothing, but rubbed the side of his face on the stall door. “Stop that, you dope, before you hurt yourself,” Castiel told him, poking the horse’s chest with his index finger. Beefcake looked offended, but stepped back as requested. “See you tomorrow big guy,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupid, either.”

Back at the main barn, a slender man with golden brown hair paced back and forth in front of the wash stalls. His black tall boots were clean, but well worn. He wore a heavy winter coat over his riding clothes and carried his helmet wedged under one arm. He greeted Castiel with wide eyes and exaggerated tapping an invisible watch.

“Oh, well, what have we here? Baby bro has finally decided to come in from the cold—”

“Seriously, Gabe?”

“—No, no, no one ELSE in the family wants to go home and, I dunno, EAT SOMETHING. Castiel, I swear to GOD you are killing me today—” Gabriel threw his arms wide. 

“I am doing what I am supposed to Gabriel—”

“No, see Cassie, you really aren’t. You’re SUPPOSED to be studying, and doing homework and going out with your friends—”

“What friends,” Castiel muttered sullenly.

“The friends you’d have if you could be bothered to talking to anyone who has less than four legs!” Gabriel pressed two fingers against the bridge of his nose, as if to ward off a headache.

“I talk to people, Gabe,” Castiel said, “Sometimes twice in one day.” He stomped past his brother into the tack room, which was heated thank God. He grabbed his sneakers, which he had forgotten after his little mare had wacked him in the face this morning, and stuffed them in his messenger bag. 

Gabriel lingered in the doorway. “Okay, kiddo.” He scrubbed his empty hand back and forth through his hair, sticking it up in all directions. “Give me a name. Tell me ONE person you talked to today. Who is not a horse.”

Triumphant, Castiel spun around. “Ha!” he cried. “Dean fucking Winchester, that’s who.”

“Who the hell is that?”

“Some kid at school.” He hoisted his bag up to his shoulder and made a face. 

Gabe made a face back. “Really?”

“Seriously, yes, it is NOT a big deal, Jesus.” Castiel shifted uncomfortably. “I have a few classes with him is all.” He rolled his eyes. “He even sat next to me! I think I’m in love,” he finished sarcastically.

“Tone it down, there.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “You like him.”

“I don’t even know him, Gabe.”

“You liiiiiike him,” the older man sing-songed.

“I hate you so, so much sometimes,” Castiel said sourly. “Can we go now?”

His brother only laughed merrily and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Come on kiddo, time to get some grub.”

 

Tbc.


	2. In Which Dean arrives early, Sam has a bitch face, and Cas makes a move.

Life for the Winchester boys settled quickly into a routine. Dean in particular was finding the monotony rather comforting. He liked knowing that all of his clothes lived in a dresser and not a suitcase. He liked having posters on the wall. He REALLY liked having his own room, his own mattress and his own sheets. God. He shouldn’t have to be so fucking grateful for just owning sheets, but damn. He really was.

For the first time in his life, Dean was staying out of mischief. Knowing that he would be attending the same school next year was forcing him into better behavior, because this time he would be around to face the consequences of mouthing off or getting into fights, or hell, even just regular dating drama.

Strange as this was, now that he was making an effort, schoolwork took up a significant chunk of time. When Bobby had laid down the law to Dad, Dean had thought that he’d end up getting a part time job. But Dean had COMPLETELY underestimated Bobby’s commitment to Operation Your Ass is Graduating No Matter What. Bobby would not hear of anything interfering with the boys schooling.

“I couldn’t do anything about it before, Dean,” Bobby said over dinner one night. “But I damn well can now, and I tell you, the only thing you need to worry about is getting your ass to school on time, getting your homework done every day, and getting good grades.”

Bobby had issued this pronouncement over the baked chicken he’d cooked, while Sam shoveled piles of mashed potatoes on his plate and then smothered it with butter. Dean had been caught unawares; a forkful of potatoes and peas dangling from the tines, as he stared at his guardian. “I mean it, Dean,” Bobby said. “You’ve been worrying about the whole world as long as you can remember. It’s time for you to worry about you.” The older man chewed thoughtfully. “I think if you don’t learn how to do that now, son, that you might never learn it.”

 

So Dean threw himself into schoolwork with unexpected gusto. He found it was easy to keep up with classes when he a) was getting enough sleep, and b) actually did the reading and homework. So while he was busy with school and normal things, like cleaning his room and doing laundry and trying to get the road salt off the Impala, he had these little gaps. Like he sometimes zoned out while folding t-shirts and tried to figure out what the deal was with his sort of-not really friend, Novak.

Novak who never had given Dean his first name. Novak, who sat with him in the back and made snarky comments under his breath. Novak, who showed up at school every morning and ate a truly gigantic breakfast. Novak who groaned when he got up from chairs and dragged himself up the three flights of steps between first and second period. Novak, who frequently had bruises on his cheekbones or his jawline or his chin, and never ever answered when Dean asked about them. Novak, who liked to give Dean long searching looks as if he was trying to see into Dean’s soul. And Dean, well…if he returned those long searching looks it was only because he was trying to figure out how anyone’s eyes could POSSIBLY be that blue. It was. Really.

****

As January in Sioux Falls slipped into February, the weather remained grey and cold. However, more and more days approached the freezing mark, and Castiel found himself extremely grateful on the rare days the mercury cracked 32 degrees. After torturing himself by getting up at four am to do barn chores and ride during the coldest part of the year, 32 degrees seemed like a heat wave in comparison.

It was just so much easier to wear winter riding clothes with an over layer instead of the three layers he had been wearing. Castiel made a face as he looked out the car window. Gabriel (as part of their arrangement) drove him to the barn before school. They did the cleaning and feeding together so they both had time to school the naughty ponies (ie—the mares). If needed, Gabe would give Castiel a short riding lesson, before dragging him off to the high school. 

During the day, Gabriel checked all the fences, and looked over all the horses at the farm. He normally had a few students who continued to ride during the winter, as they had an indoor arena, and gave a lesson or two before picking Castiel up from school and heading back to the farm.  
Castiel sighed. Spring and summer were much more fun in the horse world. Spring meant clipping the yak-like winter coats and making all the horses sleek and shiny again. Spring meant fresh green grass and foals. Spring meant they could start jumping in the cross- country field again, and searching the woods for good logs to use as new jumps.

God, he missed jumping. He missed the excitement of cross-country and the sensation of flying as he sailed over three foot jumps, as Beefcake tossed his head and fought to go faster. Castiel couldn’t help it—he just felt so…so earthbound and trapped in the winter. 

“Cassie, is your boyfriend still bugging you about all those love-taps your girlfriend is giving you?” Gabriel smirked at the road.

Castiel glared at his brother. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s barely a friend.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “But yeah. He mentions it a lot. Sometimes I think he thinks I’m getting beat up at home.”

Gabriel snickered. “Well you kinda ARE getting beat up at home. It’s just your mare is doing all the beating. I keep telling you kiddo, that horse needs a martingale or at the very LEAST a neck stretcher, otherwise she’s gonna break your nose the way she throws her head around.”

“Yeah, I know,” Castiel said. “We should start keeping some stuff in the indoor so it’s right there if we need it.” He paused thoughtfully. “In my defense, I had no idea asking her to bend was like a declaration of war.” He made his voice high pitched, “Why are you putting your leg on me, YOU EVIL DICTATOR, I kill you with my cement head!” He laughed. His pretty little mare was completely ridiculous sometimes.

“Anyway, Bro, why don’t you invite your not-boyfriend—”

“GABRIEL.”

“Sorry, sorry. Why don’t you invite Dean fucking Winchester to the barn so you can show him around and impress him with all your fancy horse moves.” Gabriel went on as Castiel stay suspiciously silent. “I mean, have you seen your ass in those riding breeches?”

“I swear, I am going to kill you.”

“No, you won’t, Cassie,” Gabriel chuckled, then sobered. “Castiel, please tell me that you DO know, in spite of how much I tease you, please tell me you know whatever is okay.”

“Whatever?”

Gabriel flapped a hand in the air. “Yeah, you know—whatever. If you like girls…if you like boys…whatever, it’s all good bro.” He studiously kept his gaze on the road.

Castiel tilted his head back with a huff. “Gabe, I don’t, I mean…I don’t know if I’m wired that way. I just…I don’t like many people. I don’t like dealing with them, I don’t like talking to them. I…Dean is just…different.”

‘Different,” Gabriel repeated.

“Well, right now he’s about the only person other than you and Michael that doesn’t look at me like a freak.” He half shrugged. “So there’s that.”

Gabriel pulled up to the school. “Good, I like him already. Now get out. Go forth and sin everywhere, and all that.”

Castiel slammed the door of the truck in response.

****

“Dean, why do we have to leave so early today,” Sammy whined in the passenger seat. “We don’t have to be there for, like, another half hour?”

“Because,” Dean said, “That’s why.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

Sam gave him a bitchface. “You just want to talk to that guy you hang out with. Which is fine, but why do you have to do it so EARLY?” Sam leaned his head against the glass.

“Shut it, Samantha. I have my reasons.” Dean pulled into the student lot and began the tortuous exercise known as finding a parking space.

Sammy sighed. “I just don’t see what the big deal is. Just ask the dude if he wants to hang out or something. Jesus. I mean, people do it every day, Dean.”

“Oh yeah? Well I don’t see you exactly bringing friends home for dinner, do I?” Dean pulled into a truly terrible spot, about a mile away from the doors. “Also, shut UP. When I want your advice, Dear Abby, I will ask for it. Oh wait, I so won’t.”

Sam huffed and got out. “Maybe that’s part of your problem, Dean. You WON’T ask.” He shook his shaggy hair out of his eyes, flung his backpack over a shoulder and flounced off.

Dean muttered, “Whatever, bitch.” 

After shoving his heavy coat into his locker, Dean headed down to the cafeteria, pushing his way through the heavy student traffic. He kept his eyes straight ahead. In some ways, Novak had been right. Nobody else approached him to make nice since that first day of school back in January. Which was totally fine because Dean was not here to make friends and influence people. This was his second chance to have a life. Now he actually had to think about the age -old question ‘what do you want to do when you grow up?’ instead of—no. He’d think about that later.

He arrived at the cafeteria, and after craning his neck a little, saw Novak way over there in the far corner, of course at the smallest table sitting alone. As always, Dean saw, Novak had a truly ridiculous amount of food on his plate and was shoveling it in like he hadn’t eaten in a week. “Hey, dude,” he greeted, and sat down, flinging his bag on the floor.

Novak’s eyes widened comically. He struggled to swallow and said, “Hello, Dean.”

“Hungry?” Dean gestured at the large omelet, pile of hash browns, bacon and toast.

“You could say that,” Novak remarked, taking a long drink of orange juice. 

Dean tried not to be obvious about checking for new bruises. “Dude, what do you actually DO in the mornings? I mean you look like—” He stopped as Novak pinned him with an icy glare.

“I know what I look like,” he said, nearly expressionless. “It can’t be helped right now.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to, shit, I am awful at talking.” Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He wanted to look away from Novak’s endless blue eyes, but he couldn’t seem to pull away. “I just…I’m worried about you, man. Like, are you okay at home?” God, I sound like such a douche, Dean thought.

Novak put his fork down. “Give me your phone.” He held out a hand for it. Dean wrinkled his brow but handed it over without comment after putting his passcode in. “You want to meet me somewhere after school later? I’ll text you the address.” Novak looked away and rubbed the back of neck. He took a deep breath and slid Dean’s phone back across the table, then returned to inhaling his breakfast.

Dean waited but Novak kept eating, seemingly content to ignore Dean. Which was fine. He thumbed through his contacts, and discovered ‘C. Novak’ had been added and a text sent to that number. “What does the ‘C’ stand for?” he asked.

Novak glared at his plate. “It’s Castiel”. 

“Castiel,” Dean repeated. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one there is.”

“Castiel,” Dean said slowly. “Cas. I like it.” He couldn’t help but smile. He caught Novak’s, no wait, Cas’s, eyes again, and this time they were noticeably warmer. Cas looked down at his plate, an unmistakable pink tint to his face. “Hurry up with that, dude, or else we’re gonna be late for Bio.” Dean smirked. “We wouldn’t want anyone to steal our seats.”

Castiel laughed, the first time Dean could remember hearing it. “No, I guess we wouldn’t. Actually, you go on ahead, I’ll be up there in a few minutes. I need to finish this,” he gestured at his remaining food. 

“Okay, see you, Cas.”

***

After Dean left, Castiel pulled out his phone and added Dean into his contacts. Then he texted Gabriel. _Dean fucking Winchester may be visiting later_

Immediately Gabe responded: **oooh look who has game make sure you break out the tall boots and breeches baby bro**

Castiel was texting when another message came through from Michael. **Gabriel just told me you have a date? When do I get to meet this paragon of virtue?**

Castiel erased his half written message and texted instead, _Gabe you suck so much. Now I have Michael on my ass thanks asshole_

Michael: **With a name like Dean fucking Winchester, he has to be good, right?**

Gabriel: **as a personal favor I am ignoring the obvious quip I should make about who will be riding your ass…..oh wait….**

“Jesus Christ,” Castiel said under his breath. To Michael, he sent : _When are you coming back from Florida? Next week right?_ To Gabriel: _that’s such a nice new saddle you have…hope nothing happens to it_

Castiel realized that everyone was leaving for first period. He stuffed his phone in his hoodie pocket, feeling it vibrating furiously. God. He should have been an only child. He really should have. His legs protested getting up from the chair. Gabriel had made him trot his little mare for about thirty minutes before horrifying Castiel with the comment, “Now drop your stirrups and start posting! Let’s see some figure eights and serpentines!”  
At least the little mare had started putting her head down and moving forward a little better. Sometimes it felt like riding a freight train. Okay, Castiel, he said to himself, time to move, and dragged himself off to Biology.


	3. In which Cas is a BAMF and multiple text messages are sent

Of all the classes Castiel had to take he dreaded gym the most. Not because he wasn’t fit, because he certainly _was_. Not because he had to change into tragic gym clothes, either. And he didn’t care about showering afterward. Castiel was into brutal honesty, and he had nothing to be ashamed about his body. Years and hours of hard work and horseback riding had made him lean and strong, with cordlike muscles along his arms, shoulders and back. His thighs were heavy with muscle, and, well…Gabriel _was_ telling the truth about his ass in breeches. Anyway, this year Castiel was a whole year older than the rest of his year mates. So he was older, and stronger and in spite of his status as an outcast, he was picked pretty early for teams. Which made it much less likely for the in-crowd people to want to mess with him. 

Unfortunately, that just made them pick a somewhat weirder if not weaker target. Apparently there were a good number of transfers this year and so the gym classes had students of different years mixed together. His third period gym consisted of about twenty boys, mostly sophomores and juniors.

February in Sioux Falls was pretty damn cold and so the gym teachers weren’t exactly volunteering to lead outdoor sports. _It just went to reinforce that only crazy people exercise outside in the dead of winter,_ , Castiel thought. So here we are ‘getting’ to play dodge ball. Which was fine in theory, except in actual practice it turned into Lord of the Flies at Roosevelt High School. Funny how it only took about four kids targeting one to make it clear who the ‘victim’ was.

Today’s target was the same gangly kid they’d been picking on for a week or so. Lucky the kid was quick and surprisingly nimble for someone who clearly had outgrown his body. The kid never complained about it though, never bitched about the multiple attacks, just spun out of the way until he could catch and retaliate with lethal accuracy. Castiel couldn’t exactly pick off the douchebags on his own team so he had to settle for lobbing easy balls at the kid. 

Today was that this was the first time he was on Castiel’s side. Castiel narrowed his eyes. He never could stand bullies. _Game on, fuckers,_ he thought.

For the next forty-five minutes Castiel and Gangly systematically took out the opposing side. When Coach Brown called time, they exchanged triumphant grins. Castiel was about to ask the kid’s name when he felt a heavy shove from behind, and then time slowed _way_ down.

The ground rose in slow motion. Castiel had plenty of time to think about how much this was about to hurt. His chin hit the ground hard stunning him with the explosion of pain. He opened his eyes to blurred vision and saw a sneaker coming at his face. Instinctively he curled into a ball to protect himself. From far away he heard shouting and then he was at the bottom of a pile of boys, all struggling against each other. Castiel struggled to turn, but instead saw an opening and scuttled from the bottom of the sinuously moving pile. He staggered to his feet, and found one of the juniors beating the shit out of Gangly.

Castiel didn’t think he just moved. He yanked the douchebag off Gangly, who staggered and fell without his attacker holding him up. “What the fuck is wrong with you,” Castiel shouted, breathing hard and furious. He shook the kid for good measure and got a wad of spit in his face for his trouble. Cas rocked back and punched the kid in the face, not holding anything back. 

The kid went down and Castiel followed him, savoring the _crack_ as he broke Douchebag’s nose. He dragged the kid to his face and growled, “I can not _stand_ you people.” Roughly he threw the other boy to ground.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” 

Castiel winced. 

“NOVAK AND WINCHESTER—” Castiel’s head spun around. The hell? Who was coach talking to? “—GET YOUR ASSES OVER HERE…NOW. The rest of you hit the showers.”

“FERGUSON, CRUZ, GRAHAM and TODD to the Vice-principle’s office. Scrape up Rourke, there and take him to the nurse’s office on your way.” Coach Brown looked like he was having a worse day than Castiel and Gangly the way he was stomping and huffing. Castiel was overcome with the sudden urge to giggle uncontrollably and only the pain that came with any movement of his face stopped him.

“Novak, seriously, what the hell?!”

Castiel prepared for a lecture. This reminded him of when he and Gabriel used to get into trouble and then having to listen to Michael bitch and moan. Again, he repressed the urge to grin.

But it was Gangly’s turn to pipe up. “Coach, it wasn’t his fault, the other guys attacked him first!” Gangly looked like he was gearing up to argue in front of the Supreme Court. Blood trickled from a nasty looking gash along his left eyebrow, and when Gangly shoved his long hair back he smeared it all over his face. His forehead creased and crinkled with his earnestness.

“Yeah, Winchester, I have eyes, what I’m talking about is the beat down Novak gave Rourke.” He eyed Castiel disdainfully.

Castiel opened his mouth to protest when Gangly took the floor again.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize it was so much better to attack someone from behind than defend yourself from an attack,” Gangly said. “Or maybe you didn’t notice the way they’ve been teaming up on me for the last week. What IS the bullying policy at this school coach, because I think you’re gonna need to go to a refresher course.” 

“Winchester—”  
“—And what’s more,” Gangly continued, “I’m a new kid at this school and younger than those other guys. I don’t know,” and now he made his voice sound positively _sorrowful_ , “It just looks bad, you know, with the bullying that was allowed to go on for days, I mean what would the ACLU say?”

Covering his mouth, Castiel hid his smirk. It hurt but it was so worth it. Coach Brown looked like he might be about to have a coronary. Through gritted teeth he said, “Both of you, clean up and get to the office. I am calling your parents—”

Gangly, no _Winchester_ snorted. “Good luck with that,” he snarked.

Rolling his eyes, Castiel gave the younger boy a look that clearly meant SHUT UP RIGHT FUCKING NOW, and said, “Thanks Coach, have a great day!” He grabbed Winchester by the arm and tugged him toward the locker rooms. When they were out of hearing distance he hissed, “Are you insane?”

Winchester yanked his arm free and retorted, “I dunno, I could ask you the same thing. Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Castiel snorted. “I have two older brothers. And I grew up in a cutthroat family business.”

Winchester brightened. “Really? Me too, I mean I have an older brother. You might actually know him, his name’s—”  
It was clear where this was going. “Dean, right?” _Because of course_ , Castiel thought.

“Yeah, how did you…oh. _You’re_ ‘Novak’. Dean has classes with you.” Winchester eyed him a little more carefully now. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

XXX

Dean was sitting in fourth period algebra when his phone vibrated in his pocket. And it kept vibrating. And vibrating. He hid it under his desk. Even as he peered down curiously, it kept blowing up with text messages. 

C Novak: **I think I have to cancel today sorry**

Sammy: **I HATE THIS SCHOOL**

C Novak: **I really hate this school**

Sammy: **btw I got jumped in gym today**

Sammy: **and I met your friend**

Dean shook his head. The fuck was going on? To Sammy he sent: _wtf are you ok what friend_  
To Cas he said : _yeah that’s going around today maybe another time then_

C Novak : **I am pretty sure I am gonna be grounded when I get home**

To Sammy: _do I need to come out of class cuz I will_

To Cas : _…?_

Dean received two picture attachments back to back. From C Novak he had a selfie of Cas’s chin scraped raw and bleeding. From Sammy he got a fucked up picture of blood all over one side of his face.

Dean clenched his jaw and made a group text: To Sammy and C Novak: _WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON_

XXX

In the waiting room outside the Principle’s office Castiel and Sam both started snickering

XXX

Dean’s phone buzzed with another picture. Cas and Sam with their heads together in the frame looking like they got the shit knocked out of them.

XXX

“Want to see something funny?” Castiel nudged Sam. He used the picture he’d just sent Dean but opened a group message to Michael and Gabriel. He sent the picture and then: _Look! I made a new friend today!_

XXX  
In the barn’s office, Gabriel pulled his phone out of his boot. “Oh ha fucking ha Cassie, “ he muttered. “Michael is going to lose. His. Shit.” _oh good job sweetie but maybe dont beat them up next time_

From Cassie: **youll never guess his name**

_????!!!_

From Cassie: **Sam fucking Winchester**

From Mikey: **I just got a very interesting call from Castiel’s school. Has he contacted you yet?**

“No, Mike, why would he I’m only his _guardian_ when you’re down there playing with Dad.” Gabriel saved the picture from Cassie and sent it on to Michael. Gabe pushed back from the desk and eyed his clock. Any second now if he knew his brother—. Sure enough his cell started ringing. He swiped right and said, “Mike, this is a surprise!”

XXX

Sam said, “Is that funny? Why is that funny?”

XXX  
In the office of Bobby Singer’s salvage yard, the phone started ringing.

XXX

Dean waited patiently at first, then impatiently as time passed and his phone remained stubbornly messageless.

XXX

In Orlando, a formidable looking man with jet black hair and deep blue eyes hung up the telephone thoughtfully. He opened up the contacts on his iPhone and sent a message to Dad: _Bad news or good news?_ He rocked back in his desk chair, propping one boot clad ankle on the desk corner. He rubbed absently at a smudge across the toe of his boot.

From Dad: **What’s wrong?**

_Good news: Castiel is making new friends at school._  
 _Bad news: He and his new friend got beat up in phys ed this morning._ He forwarded the picture of the two boys.

From Dad: **Where is Gabe? Is he taking care of this? What about the other boy?**

Michael smirked at the phone. _You’ll never in a million years guess who his new friend is._

From Dad: **Is that the mysterious Dean fucking Winchester?**  
“Close but no cigar, Dad,” Michael muttered. _Apparently dear little Castiel was defending the honor of none other than *drumroll* Dean’s little brother_

From Dad: **You’re shitting me**

_Not at all. You have just met Sam fucking Winchester_

From Dad: **Son please tell me the other kids are in worse shape**

“You have no idea,” Michael said to his phone. _Well, he broke one kid’s nose and knocked out a few teeth._

**I’m supposed to be upset about this right? How about we just pretend I am?**

Michael sighed. _That’s about what I figured._

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a comment and let me know what you liked and what you didn't. I haven't written anything in a while and would appreciate the feedback. Hope you enjoy, this chapter was super fun to write.


	4. In which Cas and Sam are sore and tired, Gabriel and Bobby are awesome, and Dean worries about everyone

Dean’s long strides ate up the corridors between his algebra class and the main office. After waiting what he thought was a completely reasonable amount of time, he’d informed his teacher there was a family emergency and he had to leave immediately. He ignored the knowing looks and smirks from the other students as he left. It had not escaped Dean that he was not the only one with his phone out under his desk during class.

The administration office was located just inside the front doors of Roosevelt High. The entire office was shaped like an L as it followed the corner of the first floor hallway. They were in fact separated by nothing more than a wall of glass the entire way. Dean stopped short in the corridor.

Inside a young man sat sprawled in a chair. His black hair was sticking up. A magenta bruise surrounded a nasty scrape on his chin. He held an ice pack up to his right cheekbone. The young man was still wearing his gym clothes: a bright red tank top and black sweats. Thick cords of muscle stood out clearly in his forearms, and his biceps flexed as he pressed the ice close.

Dean swallowed. 

Castiel glanced up, saw Dean, and froze. The hand holding the ice pack drifted down away from his face and blue eyes locked onto Dean’s. 

Dean felt like he was frozen in place, at least until a voice at his side said, “Hey big guy, can I get by?”

The man had golden brown hair swept back from his face and eyes nearly the same color. He wore a heavy black jacket, and tan form fitting pants. Black leather boots up to the knee completed a look that Dean could make no sense of.

Dean found himself being examined in turn, and felt abruptly self -conscious about his worn jeans and work boots and t-shirt. Everything about the guy in front of him screamed _money_. Dean took two steps back. “Sorry, man,” he said. He couldn’t help looking back through the window to see Cas standing up and swaying.

The man was at Castiel’s side before Dean was really aware of him moving.

“Easy there, Cassie, you look like you got knocked around real good.” 

Cas knocked the man’s hand away from his face where it tried to cup his good cheek. “Quit that, Gabriel.” 

Gabriel glanced back and fixed his knowing eyes on Dean. “Hey, Big Guy, you friends with Castiel, here?” 

Dean straightened to his full height. “Yeah. Yeah, I am,” he said, aware he sounded defensive. “Dean Winchester.”

“—Gabriel,” Castiel growled warningly. 

Gabriel tried to look innocent. “What? You know how I like meeting your friends.” To Dean, the older man said, “I’m Gabriel, Castiel’s older brother. One of them, anyway. By the way, little bro, Mikey is strongly considering coming back early from Florida.” He paused then added, “Mikey said that Dad was happy the other guys looked worse than you and…who was the young man in your pictures again?” He sounded sly.

It was Dean’s turn to speak up. “That would be _my_ little brother, Sam.” To Cas he asked, “Are you all right? Where’s Sammy?”

“He left with someone about ten minutes ago,” Castiel said. “And aside from being sore, I am fine.”

“Grumpy guy? Beard and hat?” Dean inquired and Cas nodded. “That’s my, uh, Uncle Bobby. Me and Sam live with him.”

“You know, little bro, I don’t think you look fine. So sit your ass back down and let me sign you out of lockup.” Gabriel helped settle his brother back in his chair, and disappeared into the office.  
“Cas, what happened?” Dean burst out, moving to sit down next to his friend. 

A sideways glance from blue eyes, before Castiel slowly leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Dodge ball. They’ve been making Sam a target,” he said tiredly. “I didn’t have the opportunity to do anything about it until today.” He yawned. “We took out the entire opposing side.” The corner of Castiel’s mouth quirked upwards and Dean suddenly found himself noticing how full the other boy’s lips were. “Didn’t know he was your brother of course, didn’t know you had one.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Dean said softly. 

Castiel blinked his eyes open and met Dean’s green gaze. “I could say the same,” he murmured.

Dean put a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Thanks for looking out for Sammy. That means a lot to me.”

Castiel looked down. 

Gabriel appeared back in the doorway and Dean hastily removed his hand. He felt himself flushing as he examined the tops of his boots. A long silence ensued. Dean raised his head and saw the two brothers engaged in a silent conversation. He grabbed his bag. “I better get back to, um, class. See you around, Cas.” And bolted.

XXX

In Gabriel’s truck, Castiel fastened the seat belt and tilted his seat back a little. He waited until Gabe had started the engine before saying, “Please, I am not in the mood right now, Gabe.”

“Hey, I said _nothing_.”

“I can feel you thinking it.”

“Thinking what,” Gabriel replied. “That for once I’m happy you’re making friends who appear to actually be decent people? Or that I’m proud as hell of you for defending someone who needed it?” In a softer voice he added, “Cassie, I think you forgot to mention some things about Dean fucking Winchester.”

Castiel sighed. “What are you talking about?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Well, you sure didn’t mention he was freaking beautiful.”

“I saw him first, Gabe,” Castiel said to the window. 

“It’s not a problem, kiddo, believe you me. The big guy only has eyes for you, I think.”

XXX  
After pulling into their driveway, and steadying Castiel up the stairs to his bedroom, Gabriel made sure little bro’s phone was plugged in and at hand. Not before unlocking it and scrolling through the contacts, and sending himself one contact in particular. Castiel discovered that he got dizzy when he bent forward to remove his sneakers and Gabe yanked them off for him, before swinging his legs up into the bed.

Castiel threw an arm over his eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore Gabe. I’m gonna be eighteen on my next birthday.”

Lingering in the doorway, Gabriel smiled and looked down. “I know, Cassie. It’s just that sometimes, I miss little you, you know?” He studied his fingernails for a moment. “Do you need another ice pack or anything? Some ibuprofen maybe? Or, I can make you a sandwich—”

“I’m really, okay. Well, I’ll take the ibuprofen.” Castiel slowly turned on his side, grunting as more aches and pains became known.

Gabriel started down the steps when his brother’s voice floated after him: “Thanks, Gabe.”

“No worries, kiddo. Now get some rest. Text me if you need anything. I’ll bring your pills up in a few.”  
At the bottom of the stairs, Gabriel turned left into the living room. It was a cozy room with large window and hardwood floors and a fireplace. He sank into the squishy couch and pulled out his phone and composed a new message to Mikey: _Guess who I met a little while ago?_

**…? Do tell.**

Gabriel pulled up the picture he’d snapped of Dean fucking Winchester outside the school’s administration office staring at Castiel like a lunk head, and sent it. He smirked at his phone, waiting for a response.

Mikey: **Damn. That’s a good looking boy.**

Snickering, Gabriel texted: _Cassie saw him first! btw that is an ACTUAL quote from baby bro_

Mikey: **You don’t think he has a concussion do you? He’s not usually so forthcoming about stuff like that.**

_Nah, I think he’s fine, just really sore. Taking some pain pills up in a minute actually. Just thought I’d share the picture of your future brother in law_

Mikey: **Dear God. No. I refuse to think about this.**

Gabe snorted. _oh fuck you. my life turned into a soap opera today. if I have to think about it then so do you_

**If you want to come down and deal with Dad, and the Florida Farm, while trying to train horses, as well as show, I will be happy to swap with you. No take backs though.**

“Whatever, Mike. No, I’d much rather stay up here in the freaking twenty degree weather all winter and watch Castiel work himself to the bone.” Gabriel muttered. He sent: _and miss all the heart to hearts with little bro? NEVER_ He tossed the phone on the couch. Then set off for a glass of water and some ibuprofen.

He climbed the stairs with quiet footfalls. Castiel’s bedroom was just to the left of the landing. Gabriel poked his head in. Seeing Castiel was asleep, Gabe left the cup of water and two pills on his nightstand. He watched his brother sleeping for a few minutes, thinking of younger years after Cassie had fallen off Quicksilver, the little Welch pony. He must have come off that pony twenty times before he finally got the hang of holding the reins and not getting yanked forward over the horse’s head. Gabriel remembered a shy little boy with dark messy hair and big blue eyes who was all skinned knees and elbows. He remembered how Cassie always cried when he fell off his pony; sometimes tears of anger, sometimes frustration and sometimes pain. He always did _feel_ too damn much, Gabriel thought. On impulse, he carded his fingers through the thick black hair, brushing it away from Cassie’s eyes.  
XXX

Bobby Singer had to admit: when he got the call that Sam had been beaten up at school and could he please come and pick him up—He’d nearly had a heart attack. _Oh shit Sam,_ ran through his head on a continuous loop. So he’d busted his ass getting to the school where he found Sam and the kid sitting next to him looking at their phones and giggling like girls.

Then Sam had looked up and saw Bobby and looked simultaneously scared and relieved. “You okay there, boy?” he’d gruffly asked, and Sam’s face had just…crumpled. And Bobby found himself suddenly glomped in a rib-cracking hug. So Bobby, not knowing what to do, figured he’d do the opposite of what John Winchester would do, and wrapped his burly arms around the scrawny kid and hugged him back just as tight. The more Sam’s shoulders shook, the harder he hugged.

“It’s all right son, you’re fine. So you got beat up a little. Not like they tried to take you in a fair fight or nuthin.”

Sam mumbled something into Bobby’s shoulder.

“What was that, son?”

Sam turned his head and said, “I want to go home.”   
Bobby felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. The breath got stuck in his throat for a long moment before Sam added, “Come on, Bobby, let’s go home.”

To his relief, Sam had immediately flopped on the couch and slept until Dean got home close to four. Nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee from the doorway, Bobby watched Dean find his brother asleep and drop down to one knee for an up close and personal examination of the kid’s war wounds. _I think he’s gonna live,_ Bobby wanted to say, but that sounded awfully close to something _John_ might say, so he held his silence.

He watched Dean watch Sammy for a long time, longer than he expected, before Dean finally rocked back and hauled himself to standing. He stood looking down at his brother for a long moment before laying a hand on Sam’s head for a moment. “Don’t do that again, you dumbass,” he heard Dean whisper. Only then did Dean notice Bobby lurking in the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

Dean followed Bobby into the kitchen where they sat at the weathered old table. “How’s Sammy,” he asked, green eyes holding Bobby’s.

The older man considered. “Welp. He took a pretty good punch to his jaw, probably have a good shiner, and yeah, I think he caught a ring or something up near his eyebrow. Nasty gash there. But—” he shrugged. “He’s a tough little shit, you know that.”

Dean bit his lip and stared at the table. “I know he is. It’s just…I’m supposed to watch out for him, you know? And I didn’t.”

Bobby set his coffee mug down hard. “Now you listen up, and listen good. You been keepin that boy safe his whole life, and that’s a fact. But he ain’t made of glass, and he ain’t wrapped in bubbles. Life. Hurts. And anyone who says different—”

“—Is trying to sell you something,” Dean finished with him, brightening a little.

“That’s right. Now go get your school shit out of the living room and take it to your room, Dean. Then you can the old man here fix some dinner. You know I don’t feel right any more lest you two are eatin me out of house and home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys might have noticed that I am all about how these two family dynamics are pretty different but also pretty much the same. I tried to show that Bobby is a bit out of his depth for all that he lobbied so hard for the boys to stay with him. And Gabriel, for all that he pretends to be the fun loving brother, takes his responsibilities very seriously. 
> 
> Please tell me what you think in the comments, especially if you have questions or think something doesn't make sense. If you like how I'm doing, please click the kudos bar and write me a note maybe?


	5. In which Dean has a bad day, Grumpy Cas is Grumpy and Gabriel is not a cupid.

For the first time since Dean started school in Sioux Falls, he had to get through a day without seeing one friendly face. He couldn’t help but looking to his left, at the empty chair beside him in the back row. It was stupid, he’d think something funny and then turn to Cas to whisper it, but…his seat was just empty. It sucked.

Biology was terrible. English was awful. Algebra and history and gym were miserable to begin with. By the end of the day, he wanted to throw Castiel’s empty chair right through the windows in the Spanish classroom.

And of course, he heard all the nasty little whispers floating around all day.

_oh poor thing he’s sad cause his boyfriend’s not here._ Or variations on that theme.

Worse was that Dean wasn’t sure if he should text Cas or not. He was probably asleep, or not feeling up to dealing with people today. Dean didn’t want to make any trouble for him. Hell, maybe Cas didn’t even want to talk to him! He’d gotten all beat up trying to protect Dean’s brother after all.

Thoroughly depressed now, he listlessly gathered his stuff when the bell rang. Today was Friday, so he had a whole weekend of nothing to look forward to. Wonderful. Dean trudged through the school to the back exits and started toward his car.

Unlocking it and flopping into the front seat, Dean realized he didn’t have to wait for Sammy today because Sammy was home recovering too! _What is wrong with me_ , he wondered. I feel like such a chick today.

His phone buzzed against his leg and he pulled it out. He had a message from an unknown number. **are you as depressed as this one? inquiring minds want to know**

Another message popped up, an image this time. He clicked on it. Then he squinted, looking closer. That looked like…

Messy brown hair, blue eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed. Mostly covered by blankets, Castiel looked like he hated the world. 

Dean started typing _Who is this_ , but he never sent the message because another text popped up. This time, it was an address and a time.

**hope you like burgers kiddo**

XXX

Castiel felt awful. He was tired, he was sore. He wasn’t allowed to go to the farm this morning with Gabriel, and just had to lie here and do nothing while Gabriel was off doing work that Castiel was supposed to be doing! Gabriel told him to binge watch something on Netflix. Well, he didn’t _want_ to watch Netflix. Castiel _wanted_ to see his horses. He wanted to bicker with Gabriel in the indoor arena while Gabriel blew into his hands to warm them up and Cas complained about his legs being noodles. He wanted to listen to Beefcake munch on hay while he mucked his stall. He wanted to see what kind of bitchface his little mare had in store for him.

He wanted to see Dean looking for him in the cafeteria in the morning, somehow always knowing where Castiel was going to be and beelining right for him.

This was awful, Castiel thought. He was just so…restless and cranky and…out of sorts.

Gabriel and Michael texted him frequently throughout the day. Castiel couldn’t help obsessively checking his phone for the message that never came. He wasn’t disappointed. It’s not like he and Dean were super tight, anyway. He’d just exchanged numbers with him yesterday. Besides, without Castiel there Dean might actually be talking to other people and making other friends. _It’s not like I’m anything special_ , he thought morosely.

The morning eventually turned into afternoon and Castiel restlessly moved from his bedroom to the couch, laptop in hand. He punched at the pillow behind him, and cued up Daredevil.

Around five thirty, a text from Gabriel came through: **you hungry kiddo? i’m thinking burgers tonite**

Castiel didn’t bother to pause the video. _I could eat. Burgers sound good._

**good. Also brush your hair and teeth I bet you look like a hobo**

Making a face at his phone because what the hell did it matter? what difference does it make?

**youll feel better little bro, trust me this time**

“Ugh, FINE.” Castiel yelled at the empty house. “I will brush my fucking teeth Gabriel!”

The doorbell rang when he had a mouthful of toothpaste, because of COURSE. At the same time, his phone buzzed on the counter. “What the actual fuck.” Gabriel: **I may or may not have invited someone for dinner.** “Oh, come on, do I feel like company now?” He wiped his mouth with the hand towel, smearing toothpaste on it, and stomped downstairs to get the door.

He yanked it open, expecting Gabriel or Michael. But hands stuffed in his pockets, Dean fucking Winchester stood on his front porch.

XXX

He’d made it all the way up to the porch before having a panic attack. This is stupid, he told himself, and pressed the doorbell. He heard heavy footsteps from inside, then the door swung open, and Castiel was staring at him like he was seeing a ghost.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean said calling up his brightest grin. 

“Dean,” Castiel said, sounding completely _floored_. His blue, blue eyes locked onto Dean’s green ones. 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey man, I um, I hope you’re not mad, but I think your brother invited me for dinner.”

“No, no, it’s…fine. I mean, yeah, um.” Castiel stepped back and held the door open wider. “Come in, please.” He closed the door. “Here, have a seat,” he gestured to the various seating options in the living room. “I was watching Daredevil on the computer.” He picked up the laptop and set it on the side table. 

Dean shucked off his jacket and laid it over the back of the couch. He sat down at the other end of the couch from Cas. When he looked up, Cas was staring down at his phone with a murderous expression. “Listen hey, if it’s not cool, I can go…” Dean really did not want to leave.

“What?” Castiel’s attention was back on Dean. “No, I’m sorry, I want you to stay, I just—” He kind of eye rolled and tilted his head to the side. “Gabe. I was trying to figure out how he got your number, and was just thinking that he must have stolen my phone.”

Dean snickered. “I figured from the picture he sent me a little while ago. It should have been titled, “Grumpy Cas is Grumpy.” He pulled up the photo and extended his arm, showing Cas. “Kinda funny, you know, I mean, that look, that’s mostly how I felt today.”

Castiel looked confused. “Why were you grumpy today?”

“Because—” _Because you weren’t there._ Dean pressed his lips together, and shook his head a little. “It was just a shitty day.” He couldn’t help but search Castiel’s face. Sometimes Dean felt like Cas could read his mind. Sometimes he wanted to read Cas’s.

“Hello household! I hope you kids are hungry because La Cucina is now open for business!” Gabe came striding through the back of the house, probably through the garage. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, golden eyes moving between first Castiel and then Dean. “Cassie. Beefcake is fine. Turned out for a couple hours in the paddock behind the barn. No swelling on that back leg. Your little mare, by the way, is still an uber bitch, and tried like hell to chuck me off today.” 

Castiel closed his eyes and groaned.

Gabriel grinned. “Just let me shower real quick and we’ll get dinner started. It’ll be great, promise.” 

Clearing his throat Dean said, “So horses, huh?”

Castiel perked up. “Yes. Do you ride?” 

Dean laughed a little. “Nah. Well, I never been up close to one, really. I don’t know. I mean, they’re so…big.”

“Dean,” Castiel said seriously. “Are you… _afraid_ of horses?” He sounded appalled.

Dean felt uncomfortable. “Not…afraid. More like…uncertain.” He forced himself to look at Cas. Why did it feel like he was confessing something terrible? He wasn’t sure what he was expecting Castiel’s reaction to be. But the blue eyes locked onto his warmed.

Castiel smiled slowly. “I can work with uncertain.”

XXX

Gabriel hurried through his shower, but there were still a few missed messages when he got out.  
Mikey: **Have you earned your stripes as a cupid yet, brother?**  
Dad: **How come you cook for Cassie and not for your father?**  
Dad: **I gave you life son. Think on that**  
Mikey: **update on the not date?**

Gabriel scoffed and ignored all of those, opting to quickly towel dry his hair. He picked up his boots, stuffed the foam boot shapers in them, and then zipped them up. He dug through his laundry basket with clean unfolded clothes for jeans and a sweatshirt. 

When he passed the living room, he saw that Dean and Cas had upgraded to sitting next to each other on the couch, watching something online. 

Before too long the burgers were cooking in the pan and Gabe started slicing potatoes to fry up. In the background he listened to Castiel tell Dean about things that he’d like about horses if he only gave them a chance.

“You don’t understand because you have no frame of reference. To ride a horse…it’s freedom. It’s the next best thing to flying. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s work, it’s so much work…but the first time you gallop across a field, or canter over a fence…”

Gabriel could imagine Castiel’s blue eyes widening, as he got more into his story. Once he got going he couldn’t ever stop.

“Wow, I mean you make it sound, really cool. I don’t think I ever seriously thought about riding like that.” Dean sounded enthralled.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and opened his messages app.  
To Mikey : _not a date update #1 little bro is waxing poetic about equines, dean fucking Winchester is trying not to be jealous_

He flipped the burgers, and after a few minutes added the cheese. His phone buzzed.

Mikey: **You know the rule. Pictures or it didn’t happen.**

“You are such a girl, Michael.” Gabe padded to the doorway and peeked in. Sure enough the boys were still crammed together on the roomy couch, sharing the laptop. He snapped a picture and sent it to Mikey. 

Mikey did not disappoint. **They look cozy. Are we taking wagers on what not a date number two will be?**

Gabe snorted. _pina coladas, getting caught in the rain etc etc etc_  
_of course cassie could surprise us both and get his man by showing off at the next A-show_

Mikey: **Ah ah, little brother. Bad enough he was out of school all last fall. He really can’t miss anymore.**  
Mikey: **Although if he came down here to visit for awhile, just THINK of all the pining that would happen.**

“Absolutely not. That is not even funny, Mike.” _let me think, NO._  
_the normal levels of pining around here lately I can’t imagine the ‘omg I’m not in the same state’ level._ He shook his head in mild disgust. Ugh. The thought alone was terrible. ‘Okay, kids,” he called, “Come on and eat!”

tbc

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was fun to write. The boys just felt like being insecure today! Thank God Gabriel is around to rescue Grumpy Cas from his mood. Please comment to tell me what you think! I really want to know. Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6 In which Gabriel gives us a summary and we finally get a title

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel sighed deeply. “Does he love me? Does he love me not,” he murmured as his thumbs flew over the keys. _not a date update #2 in which our hero is unsure he actually meant to ask dean fucking Winchester on a date Will Dean show up? Will he want to clean tack that’s not dirty or will he want to stare at Cassie’s ass? Who the hell knows? Dude. You HAVE to come up here and help me deal with this! I want my sane brother back and I don’t mean YOU._

Michael Novak was in the middle of riding a twenty-meter circle in the dressage ring when his boot started vibrating. He ignored it, and focused on sitting up straight and tall in the saddle, pressing Solomon into the bit. The horse relaxed and extended his trot, as requested. 

They moved into a series of leg yields in both directions before picking up the canter along the track. Michael kept his head and eyes up, using his body to direct the horse. He lived for these moments, when everything fell away, and he became one with the animal, both moving in perfect harmony.

Gabriel was moderately talented in the dressage arena, but he would rather be showjumping. Castiel on the other hand could easily rise through the ranks in the dressage world if he wasn’t so hell-bent on eventing.

Michael shifted his weight, slowing the horse down to a walk. He patted Solomon’s neck affectionately. He owned a lot of horses, it was true, but this one was the most fun to ride.

The pair walked up to the main barn from the dressage ring. Michael liked to check on the horses every chance he had. Horses were well known to be injury prone and if there were any pasture accidents he wanted to know, yesterday! He sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead where it trickled down his face. Florida. He would rather be freezing to death in the South Dakota barn with his brothers but…someone had to keep an eye on Dad. Gabriel and Castiel were too much alike to be separated. And as much as Michael hated to admit it, he knew his younger brothers had continued to grow even closer when Castiel moved back up north.

Funny, when they were both underfoot, driving him mad with their pranks and shenanigans, he never imagined how much he’d miss them. Michael thought ruefully about the time they had chalked smiley faces on every single grey horse at the barn, or the time Gabriel decided to go cross country jumping with Michael’s dressage horse! Or, how Castiel used to sneak onto every horse in the pastures with just a halter and leadrope. Michael grinned, remembering how pissed Dad used to get, fussing about Cassie running roughshod without a wing or a prayer. Dad would be standing in the back porch of the main house which overlooked the stallions turnout. Then, like a bat out of hell, Cassie would go flying past with his fingers tangled up in the mane and his legs clamped to the horses sides.

And Dad would positively lose his shit! He’d yell and thunder, oh yeah, but by the time Castiel appeared red faced and dripping sweat, Dad was all ‘next time wear a helmet, son’ and that was that.

Michael swung his right leg off the horse, and landed lightly. He put Solomon in the cross ties, and dug out his phone. Gabriel had messaged him: **well little brother is certainly motivated these days he invited dean fucking winchester and the little brother to come out to the barn today**

Michael snorted. _A man has to play to his strengths, Gabriel._ He opened the hose and started rinsing Solomon off. Can’t leave a horse to dry in his sweat, not ever, but especially not in Florida. Poor thing would get eaten alive. He stuffed his phone in his waistband. Solomon arched his neck and snorted right in Michael’s face.

“Thanks for that.” He squirted some water in the horses’ mouth. Solomon opened his mouth obligingly and let the water slosh though his mouth. Michael’s phone buzzed and he held the hose away from him to read Gabriel's message.

**ha. He just wants dean to get a good look at the goods if you know what I mean, and I think you do**

_Ugh_ , Michael thought. _That is something I could do without imagining, you ass._ He texted exactly that to Gabriel.

**seriously, bro, you want to be up here for this, I swear. It’s sorta riveting. Will they or won’t they? INQUIRING MINDS DAMMIT**

Solomon started striking out with his front leg and Michael glared at the gelding and smacked his chest. “Quit that, dumbass. You know better.” He texted: _Can’t talk right now, wet horse in crossties, update me later brother._ Impulsively he added : _Remember to include pictures!_

When Michael stopped for lunch, he saw that Gabriel had responded with a thumbs up emoticon. Typical.  
XXX

Gabriel tossed his phone onto the counter in the tack room. In spite of the space heater, the small room was not actually _warm._ It was just _less cold._ Which explained his silk long underwear under his winter riding clothes, the lined gloves and heavy duty winter coat. He let himself into the main barn, making sure to close the door behind him to keep the heat in. He stood in the doorway for a moment, head cocked to the side. Sure enough, he heard Castiel cleaning his tack.

Well. Muttering to himself, and cleaning his tack. Gabriel remained mystified as to why one would clean tack at ALL in this awful freezing weather, but teenagers. Gabe learned his lesson a long time ago about picking fights with Cassie. And Cassie was one sneaky little bastard when he wanted to be. Like the time he’d chalked smiley faces on every single grey horse at dad’s farm and SOMEHOW managed to implicate Gabriel who let’s face it—would have been happy to participate—but he actually hadn’t DONE anything. That time. Basically the moral of the story was that you didn’t fuck with Castiel unless you were really fucking committed to whatever the prank of the week was. Because the little weasel would find some way to retaliate and come out smelling like a rose.

“You okay, little bro?” Gabe called out.  
“Um. I guess so, yeah.” Castiel didn’t sound convinced.  
Rolling his eyes, Gabe strolled past the wash stalls. The shelves on the north wall of the barn had iron hooks attached to the top that were good for tack cleaning. Hang the bridle on one and easy-peasy-lemon-squeasie tack cleaning. No stooping, no bending. Gabriel let out a low whistle as he observed all the bridles that had been cleaned _already_. Beefcake’s cross country bridle, the showjumping bridle, the dressage bridle. The Ovation monocrown that he schooled his wackadoodle little mare in. 

Castiel ignored him, just kept dipping his chamois cloth in some neatsfoot and kept working on his standing martingale. Gabe craned his neck and noticed that Cassie had carefully placed three saddles on the rail that divided the grooming stalls. Judging by the dust, the saddles were next on the Lady Macbeth tour.

“So,” Gabriel drawled slowly. “How are we feeling today?” He felt more than saw the angry glare.

“I hate when you ask questions that you already know the answer to,” Castiel said to his Neatsfoot oil.

“Humor me, bro.” He moved to stand next to his brother, eyeing the suspiciously clean leather. “Sometimes it helps to use words.”

Castiel growled, “FINE.”

Gabriel waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, just before Gabe was about to break and make a quip, Castiel spoke. “I invited Dean to come out today.”

Masterfully, the golden haired man, refrained from commenting. _I deserve a medal for this._ “Aaaannnnd? Call me clueless, Cassie, but I’m not seeing the problem. Didn’t he agree?”

“Yes,” Castiel burst out in agitation. “But that was _last night._

Gabriel would swear on a stack of bibles that HE had never been this dramatic as a teenager. He made a face that clearly said : AND?

Turning back to his stack of bridles, Castiel said irritably, “Well after I thought about it, I wasn’t exactly sure that –”

Since Cassie was occupied not looking Gabe in the face, Gabe went back to the tack room and grabbed his phone. Shaking his head he sent a message. To Mikey: _YOUR BROTHER IS DRIVING ME CRAZY_

Almost immediately the response came: **You always do. Oh, wait, did you mean Castiel?**

“Asshole,” Gabe said. _ha, fucking ha. He is cleaning like every piece of tack in the barn._

**Well that’s not good.** **I have so much down here that needs cleaning….** **What’s he worried about?**

Gabriel sighed deeply. “Does he love me? Does he love me not,” he murmured as his thumbs flew over the keys. _not a date update #2 in which our hero is unsure he actually meant to ask dean fucking Winchester on a date Will Dean show up? Will he want to clean tack that’s not dirty or will he want to stare at Cassie’s ass? Who the hell knows? Dude. You HAVE to come up here and help me deal with this! I want my sane brother back and I don’t mean YOU._

Gabe’s phone pinged with a voice message. He played it, and scowled. Michael’s laughter filled the air. _I hate you_ he messaged, then stuffed his phone in his boot. Gathering his courage, he stepped back out into the main barn. 

“Okay Castiel. Here’s what we are going to do. Stop cleaning that fucking—I mean it, step away from the neatsfoot. Go get your bitch of a horse. I don’t care if you have to walk all the way out to the back forty. Go get your horse, and meet me in the indoor in forty five minutes, you are getting a riding lesson.” Without waiting for a response Gabriel stomped out of the barn and down the bluestone path to the first stall barn. Fuck sitting around angsting, he had work to do. 

XXX 

“What do you mean, you’re not sure if you’re invited,” Sam Winchester said. He was parked on Dean’s bed watching his brother fold (and re-fold) but he wasn’t going to tell him that. 

“I mean,” Dean said, “That when we were hanging out at Cas’s house last night we was like, you should totally hang out at the barn tomorrow with me.” 

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Okay, so when did you stop understanding English, because that sounded pretty clear.” 

Dean crumpled the t-shirt he was supposed to be folding into a little ball. “Yeah well, maybe he was just being _polite_.” He threw it back into the laundry basket. “I mean, his brother was actually the one who invited me to his house last night.” 

Sam was still mystified. “I thought you said you guys had a good time.” 

“Well, we did.” 

“Also…” Sam hesitated. “Is this like a…like a date?” He almost wanted to cringe, because as far as he knew Dean had only ever gone out with girls, but he was just so…weird about Castiel. 

Dean meanwhile appeared to have lost the ability to move. “I, um, uh, well—” 

Now Sam just rolled his eyes, “Do you _want_ it to be a date?" 

His brother rubbed the back of his neck. His ears became an interesting red color. “I don’t know…maybe.” He suddenly found his boots very interesting.

“Do you know where their farm is?” Sam asked. “Because I think you should go.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “Cas told me the name last night, and I looked up their website.” He went to his desk and opened his laptop. The Banner said clearly: Perdition Farm. Saving Ponies, Jumping Things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am loving the interaction between the Novak brothers. So I tried to show some parallels here, the way Cas is cleaning because he's anxious and Dean likes to fold clothes when he's anxious. And of course, they each have a brother that's trying to talk sense/ keep them from climbing the walls.


	7. In which Cas takes a walk, Dean takes a look, Gabriel takes a picture, Michael takes a break and Dad has an idea.

The best part about working with horses, Castiel often thought, was how completely it emptied out your mind, while making you so completely focused at the same time. ‘The back forty’, as Gabriel referred to the mares pasture, really was about a mile and change away from the grooming barn. Castiel elected to cross into the main pasture instead of walking down the dirt road and all the way around. This was way shorter, if a little more treacherous. The ground had been frozen for days, and hoofprints that sank in when the ground was damp, were now cemented into that shape. Luckily, Castiel had very nice boots with excellent ankle support. 

At the bottom of the hill the pasture turned abruptly left and zigzagged over the creek. His footfalls sounded hollow over the bridge, and he stopped in the middle, peering over the rails to watch the water tumbling over the rocks and pebbles. The sound soothed his nerves. He closed his eyes and turned his face into the wind, letting it blow his hair back from his face. His breathing slowed as he calmed, and Castiel was grateful to have some equilibrium back.

He continued down the path, which meandered next to the gelding field. The boys were all clustered together under the grove of trees a little ways farther out. A few of them raised their heads to watch Castiel walking. He ignored them, stuffing his glove-clad hands into his pockets. Deer skin gloves were pretty warm, but this wind whipping down from the hill was _freezing!_

He passed the last fence, which separated the boys from the girls, and made his way up the hill. Annoyingly, his little mare liked to hang out at the top of the hill, and while she no longer led him a merry chase all over the pasture, neither did she bother to actually come nearer. Castiel had to stop halfway up the steep hill to catch his breath, the cold air making his lungs hurt. “No, no,” he muttered, “I’ll just come up there. Jesus.”

While he was hunched over and panting, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and realized his pretty little mare had trotted down to him. She stretched out her nose and sniffed his hair, tugging on some of the strands. “Hey!” Castiel exclaimed, “Quit that.” 

She snorted and tossed her head. Her expressions were pretty clear to Castiel and he could almost hear her talking to him. “I don’t have to if I don’t want to,” she would have said. She lowered her head now, and nosed his pockets. 

“Yes, darling,” Castiel said fondly, “Of course I have a treat for you, but you know the rule: halter first, THEN treat.” She eyed him silently, but allowed the halter. As agreed he brought out a peppermint and uncrinkled it out of its wrapper. The noise made the mare arch her neck, perk up her ears and nicker. “Here you go, beauty.”

He looped the end of the lead rope through the other side of her halter, and led her over to the fence. He climbed up the fence rails, and swung a leg over her back. “Okay beauty, don’t do anything too stupid, all right?”

The mare turned her head right around so she could peer at Castiel with one eye, then bit the tip of his boot. Castiel rolled his eyes, and nudged his heels into her sides. “Come on pony, time to do some work.” She took a few trotting steps, and then bolted into a gallop. 

“Ha!” Castiel cried into the wind. “Nice try, but you’ll have to work a lot harder to get me off bareback.” He tightened his thighs and stretched his calves down and around her belly, his fingers tangling in her thick mane. His hips moved in time with her body, and to an outside observer, the whole process would have looked entirely effortless. In reality, Castiel was expending quite a bit of effort not to get left behind. He couldn’t afford to be unbalanced, not with the herd of mares excited and following them back to the barn. He used his seat to slow the fiery mare down and his legs to turn her away from the fence and over the bridge. At the bottom of the hill, he whooped in exhilaration, and kicked her ahead faster. The mare flew up the hill, muscles bunching and releasing as she ran. Wind whipped tears from his eyes, and Castiel was filled with a ferocious joy. 

She stopped at the top of the hill, past the run-in shed, just before the gate. Castiel swung himself off, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. “Good girl!” He said, patting her neck, then scratching her behind her ears. “What a good beauty,” he crooned. The mare shoved her head into his chest hard, and he staggered back a step, laughing. Finally, he raised his head to find the gate latch and found himself face to face with Dean Winchester.

 

XXX

 

The twenty minutes it took to drive over to Perdition Farm were some of the longest of Dean’s life. The farm was at the end of a long gravel road that made Dean wince as he drove over it. Tall black fencing bordered the farm, and from what Dean could see from the car, separated the fields from each other. He saw lots of horses from the road- in every conceivable color: black ones, brown ones, red ones, blonde ones, even some with spots like Dalmatians. One had a dark stripe that ran down it’s back all the way to it’s tail. 

Dean stopped and idled the Impala along one fenceline and watched as the horses munched solemnly on a great pile of hay. They were pretty enough, he supposed, but that didn’t mean he thought it was a good idea to get on one’s back! He’d much rather ride a motorcycle. At least that was something Dean could control, not like riding a gigantic animal with a mind of its own.

He eased the Impala forward to the farm entrance. He saw the ‘Saving Ponies, Jumping Things’ sign from the website. In person, he noticed a smaller line of text: ‘A Novak family business’. Dean snorted, amused, and pulled the car into the parking area, just behind the barn. He turned off the car and got out, zipping his jacket up tight. He glanced around, but didn’t see anyone.

He poked his head in through the barn entryway, which was big enough to drive a truck through. “Cas?” he called out. Dean kicked some gravel with his boot heel. “Cas, you around?” No answer. He backed out of the barn and then noticed a smaller row of horse stalls to his left. He headed that direction, and now that he was closer he heard a man inside one of the stalls talking.

“—times I think Cassie has the right idea with his mare, instead of dealing with you knuckleheads—”

“Hey, anyone there,” Dean called out from a few feet away from the voice.

“Jesus Christ!” The shout came at the same moment as the horse in the stall startled and Dean heard a crash from inside the stall. A golden brown head emerged from somewhere under the horse, who was still snorting and rolling its eyes. Gabriel rubbed his head, looking around, freezing completely when he saw Dean. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry!” Dean felt his face burning. Great. He’d nearly killed Cas’s brother. “Are you okay?”

But Gabriel just chuckled a little, and patted the horse’s neck absently before letting himself out of the stall. He held a large plastic pitchfork and had what looked like wood shavings in his hair. “No worries, I’m good. You looking for Castiel?”

Sheepishly, Dean nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Um, yeah. I told him I’d come by today, but I was stuck doing some stuff around the house this morning.” 

This must have struck Gabriel has funny, because the older man just grinned and said, “Wow, what a coincidence. Cassie was working like a dog this morning too. Cleaned all of his tack. Got most of it done too. I finally chased him out to get his horse.” He eyed Dean speculatively. “Gonna give him a riding lesson when he gets back up here. You’re welcome to watch.” Gabriel’s eyes danced. “I don’t think he’ll really mind. Matter of fact, he should be coming up from the back forty in a few minutes. If you go down that path—” Gabriel walked to the end of this row of stalls and pointed down a gravel walkway. “—and follow it till you get to the pasture with all the blue blankets on the fence, you’ll probably hear him coming.” He gave Dean a sly grin. “I’m gonna finish cleaning these few stalls—geldings, you know, super messy— and I’ll see you guys in a while.”

“Okay, thanks, man.” 

Dean found the right pasture without any trouble. As advertised, blue horse blankets lay draped over the fenceline. Some had names embroidered on the side, and others were just plain. Dean climbed on the lowest slat of the fence and shielded his eyes with a hand as he looked down the hill. After a few minutes, he felt the ground start vibrating. He stepped up to the middle slat, and his mouth fell right open. 

A man—a _crazy_ man, was riding a horse bareback up from the field, at what looked like warp speed. Four or five horses thundered behind him and great clouds of dust swirled in their wake. The sound of a stampede preceded Castiel, but when he crested the hill he seemed to relax and sat back on the horse. He moved…he moved like he was part of the animal. To Dean’s amazement, the brown horse Cas rode slowed down and stopped almost right in front of him. Castiel hopped off. He started patting her neck and murmuring to her in a deep voice that made Dean’s stomach twist. The horse shoved her face in Cas’s chest, knocking him back a few steps. Castiel laughed, a delighted sound that was full of joy.

Dean couldn’t help but stare. This was Novak, the dirty and bedraggled teen he’d befriended at school. But he looked entirely different! For one thing, he looked so happy his bright blue eyes were practically glowing. And his smile stretched wide, crinkling his nose and giving him dimples that were frankly adorable. He was dressed in tall black boots, tight tan pants, and a dark blue winter coat that somehow made his eyes even bluer. His black hair fluffed back and forth in the wind, and his cheeks were bright pink from the cold.

In short, Castiel looked like he’d just walked off a photo shoot. Dean wanted to clear his throat, or say ‘Hi’ or something, but his throat was dry. He thought up and discarded about a thousand things to say in the space of a second. Dean couldn’t help but give the dark haired boy another appreciative glance. So that, of course, was when Cas finally noticed him.

 

“Dean, hello,” Cas greeted him with a shy smile. “I’m glad you came by.” He nodded his head at the horse next to him. “This is—well, she doesn’t exactly have a name yet. I’ve been calling her Beauty.”

Dean eyed the horse dubiously. She was just standing there with one back leg cocked, and her head lowered. He heard crinkling and then Cas passed him something hard and cold.

“Here, give this to her. Hold your hand out flat like this,” Cas demonstrated. “She likes peppermints. Most horses have a sweet tooth.” When Dean hesitated, Cas added, “Want me to help you?” Without waiting for an answer, he opened up Dean’s hand, which Dean had instinctively curled up and grasped his palm, encouraging Dean to stretch his hand out flat with the peppermint. Dean resisted the urge to snatch his hand back, sure he was about to have his fingers bitten off.

Beauty perked her head up and sniffed his hand once before lipping the treat into her mouth, neat as you please. She munched her mint and continued standing around.

“See?” Cas said. “You still have all your fingers intact. Come on,” he said to the horse, opening the gate and walking her through. Cas hooked the chain back over the clasp holding the gate shut. He motioned Dean to his left side, while he led the horse on his right side. “So most people like to lead their horses from the horse’s left side. You can do it either side of course, but back in the old days, I think, it started because men were wearing swords on their left hips.”

“Gabriel said he was gonna give you a riding lesson? I don’t know man, you looked really good out there,” Dean clapped his hands on his crossed arms, trying to keep warm. He really should have worn gloves.

As if listening to his thoughts, Cas stopped in his tracks and said, “Dean, you really need a warm pair of gloves. Look, your hands are already too white.” He hitched the lead rope over his shoulder and inspected Dean’s hand. Blue eyes locked onto green. Cas gave Dean’s palm a good strong press of his thumb before letting go.

Clearing his throat, Dean said, “Yeah, um.” What were they talking about again? Oh, right: gloves and Dean’s lack thereof. “That’s a, uh, good idea.” _What the hell is wrong with you?_ he wondered to himself. _Could you be anymore of a spaz?_

XXX

Michael was in the middle of cleaning out the goose-neck trailer when his boot started vibrating. He leaned the manure fork against the wall and dug up his phone. A slow smile stole across his face. He had a picture message from Gabriel. He clicked on it. When it loaded, he was looking at Castiel standing next to his horse, holding –Michael presumed—Dean fucking Winchester’s hand while staring soulfully into his eyes.

_You sly dog! How in heaven’s name did you manage to get that picture without either one of them noticing?_ Michael wiped a hand across his forehead. 

Gabriel responded with another picture: Castiel and Winchester staring at each other over the back of Cassie’s crazy little mare. Michael squinted at the picture, then snickered.

_Not much grooming happening there._ He sent. 

**I keep telling you bro. this is what they DO. Honestly it’s kinda fascinating**

Another picture came through, this time showing Castiel with his forearms resting on the horse’s back. He was leaning forward, beaming at Winchester who was smirking back at him. 

Michael couldn’t resist forwarding that one to Dad, with the caption: _Guess who has a playdate today?_ He waited expectantly, but when no more texts arrived, he sighed and picked up the manure fork again. Of course, Dad chose that particular moment to respond. 

**Why is his horse’s mane so long?**

“Well, Dad,” Michael said to his phone, “because that pony is not going to be competing in anything for awhile.” He sent: _That’s what you choose to focus on?_

His phone buzzed. From Dad: **Cassie should ask Gabe to give that boy a part time job. Then he’d have a pretty good excuse to spend time with him.**

Michael blinked. “That’s…actually a good idea, Dad.” His phone buzzed and he looked down.

**I heard that, Son**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it has been a while since I updated. I was on vacation and immersing myself in the awesomeness that is Universal Studios Diagon Alley. Thank you to everyone who has left a comment or a 'kudos', you guys just don't know how that makes me all glowy.


End file.
